


Danny Boy

by queenmarvel



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Happy Ending, M/M, child death references, i think, sadfic, some blatant disregard for english grammar and language, the tags make it sound sadder than it is, war references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-09 06:52:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3240353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenmarvel/pseuds/queenmarvel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Danny Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This is something I wrote quite a while ago, and just came back across when I was moving some files around. Title and lyrics are taken from the Irish folk song "Danny Boy".

_Oh, Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling from glen to glen, and down the mountain side._

This is how the world ends; not with a bang, but a letter. Jim walks into the kitchen with it in his hands, and Bones doesn't notice the slightest way they're trembling. He does notice the cornered look in Jim's eyes, the usual, ever-present joke falling flat in a haze of worry and trepidation and fear.

"Jim?" he asks quietly, speaking not to his lover, but to a wary beast ready to spring at any moment.

"You think they would give deployment notices electronically, wouldn't you?" he answers with a smile that is more bared teeth than any emotion, never taking his eyes off Bones. "Not the case. They totally still deliver them on stationary."

That's when Bones, in horror, lets his gaze fall to the wrinkled, manged paper in Jim's hand.

"No," he whispers quietly, and then, louder, "No."

"Yes," Jim responds with what would have been a funny little dramatic sigh ten minutes earlier. Now, all his lilting humor stuck behind his tongue, in the chasms of his eyes.

"Starfleet isn't a military organization," Bones says desperately, rising from his seat and reaching out to Jim, who just barely refrains from shying away. "They shouldn't be taking any part in this war, shouldn't be deploying anyone-"

"Doesn't matter," is Jim's only reply.

"Jim," Bones says softly, and their eyes meet, and Jim's facade collapses.

"Bones, I'm so sorry," he whispers, and his words echo in his eyes' empty spaces.

_The summer's gone, and all the roses falling. 'Tis you, 'tis you who must go and I must bide._

But this is how the end begins. It begins with locked hands in front of a starship that isn't as familiar as it should be, a ship that Jim won't be captain of, because nothing, really, nothing is the same as it was before.

They both want to believe that in six months, Jim will come home, aged out of mandatory service, healthy and whole and everything will revert; fate will punch the giant _factory reset_ button on their existence and they can be happy again.

The set of Jim's jaw, the curve of their hands pressed together, the persistent tap of Bones' foot says more than either will admit on their own.

Jim probably isn't coming back.

Their tells spill the secrets they can't lend voices to, and the soft, desperate kiss they share before Jim climbs on that ship with a ticket to hell spills the emotions that voices wouldn't do any justice.

"Don't be a hero. Come home," is the last thing Bones whispers to Jim before their hands are separated.

"Don't be a hero. Come home," is the last thing either of them expects him to heed.

_But come ye back, when summer's in the meadow or all the valleys hush and white with snow_

The weather ages rapidly, almost as rapidly as Bones, and for every worried wrinkle his face adopts, nature adopts a similar disfigurement in how exactly it should run. It's snowing, giant, crystalline flakes in the very first of November when he gets the letter.

_(And isn't this exactly how it was supposed to end?)_

At least it isn't electronic.

He tears it with hands operating on an unfamiliar frequency, static where there should be clarity.

He realizes he can't read it through the haze clouding his eyes.

It takes time, so much time, so many heaving breaths and tearless sobs before he can distinguish the first line.

_Dear Mr. McCoy,_

The incorrect title is almost enough to break him. God, it's a stock letter, they couldn't even write it themselves-

 _We have written to inform you that your spouse,_ James T Kirk _(_ and here the font was different where they had automatically inserted his name via computer) _has been honorably discharged from service due to an injury rendering him incapable of serving. Mr. Kirk has served valiantly and--_

But Bones wasn't reading anymore, because he couldn't see through his finally vindicated tears.

_Jim was coming home._

_Jim was coming home._

_'Tis I'll be here, in sunshine or in shadow._

He meets him at the shuttle, as close as they would let him get, practically sobbing with relief.

It's Jim that comes hobbling out of the shuttle, but not really. His eyes are glassy and cold and one arm is held tightly to his body. He walks with a slight limp, and Bones can recognize the signs of a botched osteogenic simulator job from a mile away.

But when Jim sees his doctor, his eyes light up a little, and when Bones rushes to embrace him, they practically fall into each other’s' arms.

"You made it," is all the inexpressibly thankful Bones can voice.

"Sort of," Jim whispers in reply.

The days and nights that follow are long. Jim rarely sleeps, rarely eats, and when he does, he wakes up screaming, or throws up what little he can swallow.

But Bones knew the worst scars wouldn't be where he shattered his arm defending his team, or broke his leg trying to pull some children out of a collapsing home.

No, the worst scars were from half of his team dying anyway, from watching those children get crushed right before his eyes.

And now these three remain: panic, despair, and fear; but the greatest of these is fear.

So everyday, when Bones sees Jim shadowboxing with his memories, hiding from his soul, Bones goes to him, and Bones embraces him, and Bones repeats over and over the story of how they met, that fateful day on the shuttle to Starfleet, and how he had never known that Jim Kirk was the man he would choose to spend the rest of his life with, and slowly, slowly, under the doctor's soothing voice, Jim breathes deeper, calmer, and more, and the fear slowly, slowly dissipates.

And, eventually, things feel more normal. The war doesn't end; Jim takes to rallying protests and advocates for pulling out of the damn thing. Bones works with veterans struggling to overcome the same things Jim is facing; together, they try to make a difference.

Perhaps the greatest difference they make is the one they make in each other.

Perhaps, after all, the greatest of these is love.

_Oh, Danny boy, oh, Danny boy, I love you so._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! There are some formatting errors I haven't quite worked out, because I'm still pretty new at posting to this site, but overall, I hope you enjoyed it! I would love to hear your criticism/comments, so feel free to leave them!


End file.
